A Letter To A Friend
by DISherlocked
Summary: It's been 1 year since Sherlock's fall and John is still struggling to cope. Ella gets him to write a letter to Sherlock. Reluctantly he does and leaves it at Baker Street, a place he realises he misses so much... Rated T for a little mild language!
1. Dear Sherlock

**A/N – I have been quite busy recently but taken a break from everything. I will update my other two fics soon but this had to be written down before I forgot! Enjoy! :)**

It's been a year since Sherlock's death and John is still struggling to cope. Ella, John's therapist, decided it was an idea to write down all he was feeling.

'You mean like, write a letter or something?' John asked.

'Yes, I think it will help if you write down everything you want to say to him... or wanted to say to him.' John shakes his head slowly.

'I don't see how that will do anything...' John says.

'Just try it John, you may be surprised.'

'I'll think about it, thank you Ella.' John said rising from his seat and heading towards the door.

* * *

John sat at his small table in his new flat. As much as he wanted to, staying at 221B would have been a bad decision. All those memories would make it harder to move on. He doesn't want to move on, but everyone tells him he needs to carry on with his life.

He put his head in his hands. His laptop was out of battery but he wasn't going to write his letter up on it anyway. It felt more personal if he wrote it by hand. John took his head out of his hands and stared at the paper. He picked up his pen and started to write his letter to Sherlock, his best friend.

_Dear Sherlock,_

_It's been a year today. Since you know, your fall... Everyone thought I would be feeling a bit better by now but to be perfectly honest, I think I feel worse. _

_For the first few weeks of the 'incident' there was something inside me telling me that the fall wasn't real, you were still alive. I think that's why I feel the way I do. I know your not coming back now._

_When I came back from Afghanistan, I was all alone. I had no one. Well, there was Harry but like you worked out the first day we met, we're not that close even though she wants us to be. Bumping into Mike that day was nice. Seeing an old friend and all. Then I mentioned having to move out of London as I couldn't afford it on my army pension but he suggested getting a flatmate. _

_That's when I met you._

_At first I couldn't understand you. To be honest, I still haven't worked you out. I don't think anyone ever could. You were a mystery but some how I felt relaxed when I was with you. Mycroft said the first time he 'Kidnapped' me that he knew I had trust issues. I did. I do with new people still. You were the one I put all my trust in those few days of meeting you even though I denied it to Mycroft. You were one for danger; the least afraid of danger. Somehow though, even though pretty much every case we went on meant maybe risking our lives, I always felt safe with you._

_I know you didn't have friends but the people you knew and accepted, Molly, Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, I feel as they are some of my closest friends. Without you I would never have met them. Without you, I would still most probably be alone._

_Mrs Hudson calls round every now and then. Usually with a cake or something, trying to get me to eat. I do eat, she just worries. She said she feels lonely now. I told her she is welcome over whenever. Least she doesn't get woken up with criminals at the door or you firing gun shots because your bored now._

_Molly also texts me sometimes to meet up for a catch up. We usually just go for a coffee and she tends to talk about work and what she's been up to. She met someone. His name is Lee, I think. I said I would go out for a drink with them sometime. She's still not over you fully I don't think, but we all need to start somewhere. That's the trouble with me. I don't know where to start. That's why I am writing to you. Ella said it would help._

_I also meet up with Lestrade a lot. We go for a drink about once a fortnight. Sometimes a couple of times a week. It varies. We never talk about his work. I think he thinks it will upset me. I must admit we are a lot closer, seeing as we only talk about what we like and dislike, things in general. The kind of thing people usually talk about._

_Do you remember the day we met Moriarty? I know you probably don't want to hear his name. I don't like thinking about him, let alone writing his name. Anyway, the day we met him, when I was down looking at the tracks the guy I was with, before you came, said something to me. He said those who throw themselves in front of trains are 'Selfish bastards!' because their life is over in seconds, the driver however has to live with the guilt and pain. _

_You took it too far that day Sherlock. The press say all sorts of things about people, manipulate the truth. You didn't have to throw yourself of the hospital roof. Your life, was over in seconds. My life, well I have to live with the pain forever. You were my best friend Sherlock. I was nothing before you, and I am now nothing without you. _

_As I mentioned earlier, I'm seeing my therapist, Ella, again. I guess things have just gone downhill. She is trying so hard to help me get my life back on track. Her ideas probably work, I just don't try them. This is the first of her ideas I am actually trying. _

_You were the best man Sherlock! The most human! You were also a rude, patronising, annoying dick most of the time! But that's what made you, you. The man I trusted more than anyone. The man who I moved in with without knowing anything about him. The man I called, and still call, my best friend._

_Why did you have to go Sherlock? _

_I don't have nightmares about Afghanistan now. Just of your fall. I wake in the night sweating, scared and alone. I haven't told Ella that part. I feel pathetic. I get so scared that I bring myself so close to tears, just thinking of what it'd be like going through that again. I can't live this life by myself, Sherlock. It hurts._

_You said once that there are no such things as hero's. I think for once you were wrong. You know why Sherlock? Because you were. You were a hero. You are still a hero in my eyes. Even if you were that stupid to throw yourself of Bart's roof!_

_It's getting dark. So it must be getting late. I'm going to finish writing this now. If only you could read this Sherlock. If only you could see how much you meant to me. You made life bearable, you made me happy. You were my best friend. You are my best friend. I just need to find away to cope living my life now without you. _

_I feel writing this has lifted a small weight of my shoulders. I know you can't read this but I feel you know it all already. I just wish you could have heard it all from me. I miss you Sherlock, I would do anything to have you back in my life. But it's too late. _

_Yours ever so faithfully,_

_John Watson_

_x_

_P.S – I will never forget you Sherlock and that's a promise._

* * *

John placed his pen down on the table. He looked at the letter and folded it up. John went over to his desk and got a envelope out. He slid the letter inside and wrote _Sherlock Holmes _very carefully and neatly on the front. A tear slid down his face. John put the letter on the table, wiped the tears away with his sleeve and walked over to pick up his jacket. It was starting to drizzle outside but John had something to do. Somewhere he had to go. He picked up the letter again and placed it in his inside pocket.

John locked the door behind him and set off for a longish walk to Baker Street. The rain gradually got worse but he didn't care. Cold rain drops landing on his head, some hitting the back of his neck. Thunder sounded in the distance and the rain picked up pace even more.

Soon enough John reached Baker Street. He stood outside with the rain still beating down on him staring at the door. John walked up and knocked. Mrs Hudson answered the door.

'John, what are you doing out in the thunder and lightning? It's really raining as well! Come inside!' Mrs Hudson ushered John into the warmth.

'What are you doing here at this time, dear?' Mrs Hudson asked.

'Do you think I can go up to our old flat? There is something I want to do.' John asked politely.

Mrs Hudson nodded and went back to get the keys. She ignored the fact John said 'our' referring to his and Sherlock's flat. Old habits die hard. She came back out with the keys and made her way up the stairs. John followed quickly behind. Once the door was unlocked John felt his heart racing more. He was back at his old flat. Everything was still the same.

'I will leave you be.' Mrs Hudson smiled at John and headed towards the door.

John walked slowly all around the flat. He took in every detail of everything. Mainly Sherlock's stuff. The bullet holes he made, some science equipment in the kitchen and his chair. Sherlock's chair. John made the effort not to cry. He took the letter out of his pocket and held it for a moment. He sighed and went to speak.

'I've heard about people writing letters to friends and family who have died and leaving it in a place they both love. A place with memories.' John looked down but looked up soon after continuing what he was saying.

'I'm leaving my letter here for you Sherlock.' His voice almost a whisper. 'You know, makes me feel closer to you somehow. That even from up there you can read it.'

John placed the letter down on top of the fireplace. He took one last look around before heading downstairs.

* * *

'The wind has picked up and it's almost flooding. I think it's best you stay here tonight John. The people on the news don't want people leaving their houses.' Mrs Hudson said to John handing him a cup of tea.

'Is that okay?' John asked smiling to his former land lady.

'Of course it is! It would be lovely having you back here.' Mrs Hudson exclaimed. 'Do you mind having your old room for the night?' She asked worriedly.

'That's fine.' John said trying to sound relaxed.

'Good, well you drink that up then you should be off to bed! You look like you need a good nights sleep! It's getting late anyway.' John smiled.

'Thank you, Mrs Hudson.'

'Your more than welcome John.' She patted John on the back gently.

John finished his tea and headed back upstairs. He went into his room without a second glance to the flat knowing he will struggle to sleep otherwise. It was cold in his room, so decided until it warmed up a bit, after switching the heating on, he would sleep in his clothes.

He climbed into his old bed, the smell of fresh linen sending him sleepy. Before he knew it he was drifting off into what he could only think the best night sleep he is going to have for a while.

It was about 3am when John woke to a loud noise. He was still very much asleep and argued with his brain on whether to go back to sleep or not. John drifted back to sleep again just as there was another slight bang. His door creaked open slightly but he was asleep and didn't notice. He didn't notice it being shut around 20 minutes later either. John was oblivious to what had just happened. What he would probably have deemed a miracle.

John slept right through until morning and again avoided the flat and headed downstairs for some breakfast with Mrs Hudson.

**A/N – Anyone want more? Or is it better as a one shot? :)**


	2. It Can Wait

John sat back in the kitchen chair he was sat on. His hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea. He is trying hard not to reminiscence too much as he knows it will hurt. Mrs Hudson is searching for some biscuits in the cupboard. She briefly looks out the window and looks at the weather before turning back to hunt for the biscuits.

'It's hard to tell if the rain is going to ease up you know.' John nodded taking a sip from his tea. Not too milky and no sugar. Perfect.

'Thanks for letting me stay last night.'

'Like I said John, no problem at all.' John smiled and took another sip of his drink.

'You didn't happen to hear some banging last night did you? Or was it you? I mean I don't mind if it was.' Mrs Hudson then began to trail off.

'No, it wasn't me. Was it about 3?' John asked.

'I presume so. Then again afterwards. I thought I heard you moving around for a while.' John shook his head. 'Oh well, I must finally be cracking up.' She smiled. John laughed.

'No yet Mrs Hudson, not yet.' They both laughed.

There was a knock at the door. Mrs Hudson found the biscuits and placed them next to John and made her way to answer the door.

'Oh Detective Inspector!' John heard Mrs Hudson say. John placed his cup down and finished the biscuit he was eating. He walked out the flat to the hallway. Lestrade was standing there dripping wet about to speak.

'Sorry to bother you Mrs Hudson, but I was wondering if you have seen John. I was suppose to take him to the pub for lunch today and he wasn't home. So I guessed he might have want to come back here, it being around a year and all.' Lestrade explained.

John emerged into sight. Both Mrs Hudson and Lestrade glanced towards John. Lestrade looked awkward so John tried to make him feel more comfortable.

'Sorry, I forgot we were meeting. My phone is upstairs if you tried to ring me.' John explained.

'No worries, just wanted to make sure you were all right.' Lestrade said still standing in the pouring rain. Thunder sounded again above his head, then a strike of lightning flashed in the sky.

'Come inside dear, that weather will be the death of you if your not more careful.' Mrs Hudson exclaimed, ushering him in. He nodded in a sign of thanks.

* * *

They all sat down around Mrs Hudson's small table. She finished making Lestrade a cup of tea. Mrs Hudson looked towards the window.

'It's clearing up out there. Maybe you boys may still be able to have that lunch down the pub.' Lestrade smiled, John nodded.

'It's your turn to pay remember.' John pointed out to Lestrade.

'I'm pretty sure its yours.' Lestrade retorts jokingly back.

'Typical you, Lestrade!' John says shaking his head.

'Seriously John, call me Greg.'

'Okay.' John said smiling holding his hands up, surrendering.

They all politely chatted until they had all finished their drinks. Mrs Hudson cleared the cups and put them in the sink. She offered them one last biscuit before putting them away. Of course both men accepted happily. The sun was now beaming through the window. The radio in the corner of Mrs Hudson's kitchen worktop was forecasting the weather for the next few days.

'Oh dear. Seems this sun won't be lasting long. More rain and thunderstorms expected for the rest of the week.' Mrs Hudson commented.

'Better get that meal at the pub, and supplies for the week then.' Greg said to John. John rose from his chair. Greg mirrored his action.

'Well, I shall just get my phone and we will be off! Thanks Mrs Hudson for letting me stay.'

'No problem John. I told you any time.' She walked over and gave John a hug.

'Oh and thanks for the tea.' Greg said smiling towards the small woman.

'You are also welcome any time Detective Inspector.'

Both men walk out of her flat and Mrs Hudson closes the door behind them. They walk up the stairs in to John and Sherlock's old flat.

'Its strange being in here again.' Greg said standing in the living room of 221B.

John shouted back, making his way upstairs to grab his phone. 'Yeah, I thought that but it's not as bad as I thought it'd be.'

Greg noticed a letter up bolt right on the mantelpiece. He read the front and it said _'John Watson' _on the front. Greg picked it up and John came down the stairs. Greg was just about to give him the letter before John interrupted. He slid his phone in his pocket and put his jacket on whilst speaking.

'We better be on our way its about to piss it down!' John turned and headed for the door. Greg could leave the letter there but he knew it may be a while before John comes back. It could be important. Greg slipped it into his inside pocket and headed towards the front door downstairs.

* * *

Both men walked a quickened pace to the pub. The rain was about to start but just as it was, they walked into the pub. Greg ordered them both a pint and sat down at a table. John glanced over the menu and made his decision before Greg could even look.

Before they knew it their food was in front of them. Both men chatted quietly about how each other were, football and the weather. Just the usual.

'I feel I can really speak to you Greg, more than most people.' John said after their banter on football.

'You know, you can talk to complete strangers about football when down at the pub watching a game and I'm sure they'd be more than happy.' Greg said raising an eyebrow. John shook his head, smiling.

Greg looked out a nearby window.

'It seems to have calmed down for the moment, we can grab a couple of beers and head to mine and watch a film or something?' Greg offered while eating the last of his chips.

'Sounds good.' John had never been to Greg's before. They were just colleagues. Never had they been actual proper friends.

Outside it was really mild. Proper weather for a thunderstorm. They entered a nearby Asda and did a quick shop for food and drinks etc.

'Who knows how long this storm will last.' Greg said. They made their way over to the DVD's. Both of them looked through them. Greg picked up 'The Transporter' and looked at John.

'Seen it?' John shook his head.

'Have you?'

'Long time ago, not exactly sober enough to remember it either.' Greg answered. John laughed and nodded when Greg went to put it in the trolley.

At the checkout John tried to give Greg some money for the beers seeing as he'd be drinking them too. Anyway he did pay for the lunch in the end anyway. Greg refused it and handed money over to the cashier. John packed some bags and picked them up.

'Taxi?' Greg looked at John, both men with shopping bags in there hand.

'As long as I can pay, yeah.' John replied.

'Can't count on it.' Greg winked and hailed a taxi.

* * *

Greg's flat was fairly modern and basic. It was a lot tidier than expected for a man who lives by himself and works much too often. John helped him put the shopping away in the cupboards and then they resorted to the sofa.

'Forgot to get the beers out the fridge.' Greg said setting up the DVD.

'I'll get them.' John said standing up and walking back over to the fridge to grab them.

Eventually, they both settled down to watch the DVD. John was still sitting in his coat but then so was Greg. Greg shifted and took his coat off.

'You staying?' Greg questioned with a hint of sarcasm intended. John looked at him confused for a moment then realised.

'Oh yeah.' He said shaking his head. Greg placed his feet on the coffee table in front of them.

'Seriously, make yourself at home. I'm sure the flat would appreciate it as much as I would. Show it's been lived in.' John laughed at him.

'You work too much.' John said. Greg couldn't deny it. He always ended up doing overtime. He grabbed his and John's coat and went to put them on the chair. The letter fell out of his pocket.

'John...' Greg said going to pick it up. John stopped him.

'What's going on? Does he just deliver stuff?' Greg lost his trail of thought of what he was going to do. The letter just stay on the floor. It can wait for the moment.

'John, you really think I'd get a film if it was that boring?' Greg looked at him and sat back down.

'Silly question.' John said. They both carried on watching the film in silence apart from the odd comment here and there. It was a comfortable silence. Much appreciated in some ways.

The letter still lay there upright on the floor. The only source of light was a dim lamp in the corner of the room and the glare of the telly. The words _'John Watson' _however, were still easily visible.


	3. Thinking Too Much

It was minutes before the end of the film but Greg couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. He was straining them just trying.

'Sorry John, I really need to go to bed. You want to crash on the sofa?' John nodded also struggling to keep his eyes open.

'Spare duvet and pillow over there.' Greg said pointing to a cupboard. He switched the telly off and headed towards the stairs. 'Night mate.'

'Night Greg.'

John walked over the the cupboard. He walked over to the sofa and lay out the duvet and pillow on sofa. Sitting on the top of his bed, he started to unbutton his shirt. He got to the third button when he noticed the letter on the floor. Intrigued, he walked over and picked it up. _'John Watson'. _Why was there a letter on the floor with his name on it? It can't be Greg who wrote it. If he had anything to say he would say it to him personally. Must be a mutual friend. John doesn't have many friends, mainly acquaintances. Who on Earth could be his friend and Greg's? No one.

Picking up the letter he walked back and sat down. For a few minutes John argued with himself whether he should open the letter. It's addressed to him so why shouldn't he? He tore open the envelope and looked at the letter. From where he was sitting he couldn't read it. He got up and walked over to the light in the corner. Sliding down the wall he sat next to the light and began to read.

* * *

_To John,_

_Same for everyone. It has been a long year. Not just for you. Each day gets harder, I understand._

_Hard as it is to believe, you had many people who cared about you when you came back, you just didn't seek them out. Many people do still care for you. All everyone wants is to see you better. I know I do. Seeing you the other day back at 221B was hard._

_Everyone is aware you have trust issues and it was nice to see you open up to people. There wasn't many but to those you did open up to, all they want now is you to be happy again. _

_Remember this. Even if things hadn't have gone like they did when you came back from Afghanistan, you still would have friends and a job. It would just be with different people in a different place._

_Life is awfully lonely. It's nice to see you still think about me. I think I reminisce to much on the past. I try to look forward more now. See what the future has planned._

_On occasions I heard you stir but overall you seemed to sleep very well when you were at Baker Street. When you woke it wasn't because of a nightmare. Maybe it was because you were so tired or maybe it was because of the letter you slept right through. Only you can decide the real reason._

_Care to remember this. As long as your safe John, I will be happy. Just remember there is always someone out there who cares for you. You just have to believe. _

_Knights are like heroes. They do exist John. Only those who want to see them can. They are always there._

* * *

John stared at the letter. It was left unsigned. Who would leave him a letter like that and not sign it? Just then Greg walked down the stairs.

'John, you still awake? What are you doing down there?' Greg said walking over to where John was slouched. John flapped the paper with very little effort.

'Letter.' He said.

'Shit, I forgot to mention it.'

'Don't worry about it. I found it on the floor.' John said staring at it again, confused.

'Who's it from?' Greg asked. John looked up startled.

'You don't know?'

'No, I found it on the mantel piece back at Baker Street. I picked up because I didn't know when you'd go back. I thought it may be important.'

John sat there for a moment. It had to be someone who had been at Baker Street but after he had placed the letter there. It could only be one person.

John shook his head and laughed. 'I think Mrs Hudson read my letter and replied.'

'You wrote a letter? To who?' It was too late for Greg to put the pieces together.

'Ella, my therapist, advised me to write a letter to Sherlock. Mrs Hudson must have gone up in the morning before I woke and read it. Then she must have replied.' John said flapping the paper once again.

'Oh I see.' Greg said crouching down next to John.

'Read it. Thinking about it, it sounds like her all over.' Greg glanced over the letter.

'I see where your coming from. I will have another look in the morning but right now I need to sleep. Do you want a glass of water or something?' After all that was why Greg came down.

'I'm okay thank you. Least I can sleep now knowing who wrote it.' John got up and turned the lamp off as Greg turned the kitchen light on. Greg grabbed his drink, turned the light off and made his way to bed. John settled down and started to drift off. The letter lay on the coffee table.

* * *

'Morning.' Chirped Greg and handed John some toast as he sat down. 'Sleep well?'

'Great thanks. You?' John replied.

'Like a baby!' Greg smiled. 'I'll take another look at that letter if you like. I will be able to speak some sense this morning.' John nodded walking over to the coffee table and picking up the letter. He walked back over and gave it Greg, smiling. They both took a seat at the table. John reached over and got the jam to spread on his toast. Greg sipped his coffee while reading the letter.

'It does sound like Mrs Hudson.' Greg said. He placed it down where he could still read it.

'Has to be her then.' John said.

'I guess so.' John leaned across and looked briefly.

'The sentences are quite detailed. Like _Hard as it is to believe_ and _On occasions._ Guess that's how she writes.' John added. Greg looked at it.

'I see what you mean. It's like they don't have to be there.' Greg said while John nodded.

'Can I put a drop of cold in this?' John asked Greg, pointing at his tea.

'Yeah sure.' Greg said still looking at the letter. John walked over and turned the tap on and added in some cold. 'John, you might want to have a look at this.'

'What is it?' John asked walking back over, drinking some tea.

'Considering I'm a detective, I may be reading to much into this but look. If you get rid of the_ To John _it leaves you with 8 paragraphs.'

'Okay.' John said as if asking for more information.

'Look at each of the first words. _Same, Hard, Everyone, Remember, Life, On, Care _and_ Knights._' Greg said then looking up at John. John just gave him a confused look back. Greg sighed. He reached across and handed him a pad and a pen. 'Write down the first letter of each of those words.'

'Why?' John asked laughing.

'You'll see what I'm getting at. Just remember though. I could be reading too much into this.' John took the pen and pad from Greg and started to write. Each time he wrote the letter, he said it out loud.

'S-H-E-R-L-O-C-K.' John said. After a moment it clicked. 'Sherlock...' John whispered.

'Either I have thought too much into this or he's back.' Greg said jumping up and pulling the chair out for John to fall back on.

Greg busied himself eating some toast until John spoke again. 'I can see it now. If it was Mrs Hudson she would have mentioned something about him in the letter.' Greg nodded. 'It mentions about how I stirred in my sleep that night at Baker Street but only woke once. I did wake and it wasn't a nightmare.' Greg looked at the letter again and raised his eyebrows.

'How would he know that?'

'Mrs Hudson thought she heard me moving around that night. It was him. It has to be.' John's voice started getting louder the more excited he got. Hope that his best friend was still alive. 'He's alive Greg! He has to be!' John grabbed his coat. 'Are you coming?' John asked.

'Where?' Greg asked finding his own coat.

'To Baker Street. We're going to find him!' and with that John was already flying out the door.


End file.
